


Sauce and Bubbles

by Tsuki_Amano



Series: 365 Days of Stony [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bath Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Injured Tony, M/M, Protective Steve, Superhusbands, handjobs, sentient spaghetti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuki_Amano/pseuds/Tsuki_Amano
Summary: All Tony wanted for their anniversary was good food and a romantic evening. That really shouldn't have been too much to ask for.Except nothing goes according to plan when you're an Avenger.Or the one where there's rampaging spaghetti, a lot of fluff and bubble baths.





	

There’s a loud splattering sound as another one of the monsters disintegrates and slams into a nearby building. Tony grumpily wipes off flecks of red that cling to his faceplate and fires a repulsor beam at a nearby monster. “JARVIS, any more of these freaks in the area?”

“Scans indicate that there are no more of the beings in your sector. There appear to be a few more in the adjacent sector where the Captain is.”

“Got it, thanks JARVIS.”

When he lands, Steve’s making decent progress of dismantling a particularly aggressive opponent, but he fails to notice one slithering up behind him. Tony shoots at it with a series of blasts, letting some of his frustration out.

“Getting slow there old man,” he calls out into his com unit.

“Thanks for the assistance Iron Man,” Steve replies, and Tony can tell that the man’s directing a smile in his direction.

Another twenty minutes in and it looks like they’re done. He goes to stand next to Cap and opens his face-plate. The air is thick with the smell of oregano. Tony’s not sure if he wants to strangle someone or order spaghetti.

When the Avengers Alarm had gone off that evening, Tony had been midway through undressing Steve and attempting to mark the expanse of his chest. As the blaring siren ran through the tower, he’d let his head drop on to Steve’s chest and groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Strong fingers carded through his hair and when he lifted up his head, he’s met by a sympathetic smile on a flushed face. The knowledge that’s he the one who put that flush there sends a jolt of arousal through the pit of his stomach.

“We’ll finish this later,” Steve says kindly.

“It’s our anniversary, can’t bad guys give us a break?”

“They’re bad guys Tony, they’re not exactly known for being considerate.”

And really, Tony wants to wipe that patriotic smile off his patriotic face. Preferably with his mouth.

They suit up and head to the Quintjet, Steve dutifully getting the mission details from Natasha and Clint, while Tony dutifully tries to not stare at Steve’s butt in the uniform. He’s pretty sure he’s failing miserably. He’s also sure he doesn’t care. Listening to the mission brief would probably be a good idea though, which is why he decides to tune in right in time for Hawkeye to say…

“Did you just say Sentient Spaghetti?”

“Another octave or two higher and these windows are going to crack,” Clint says drily.

Huffing, he crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s our six-month anniversary, when I imagined Italian food being a part of this, I assumed we’d be eating it, not saving the city from it.”

Belatedly, he realises he’s given Clint the perfect pass to make a crude joke, and he flinches when he sees the gleam in his eyes, “So Tony,” he starts.

“If you finish whatever depraved thought you have in your head right now, I will make sure your arrow heads implode.”

“No he won’t Hawkeye,” Steve says calmly, placing a hand on his thigh and rubbing circles and that’s really not fair at all.

“I was just going to say, I guess these noodles are really giving you a _limp noodle_ huh?”

Turning around and fixing him with a glare, Natasha says, “Is there any way you can build an eject button into the Quintjet? Like yesterday?”

“You’re all terrible people,” Clint says pouting.

Once they arrive, Tony thinks it’s safe to say that he’s never going to look at breadsticks the same way ever again. It also turns out that meatballs can roll very quickly when they want to.

By the time they’re done, he’s sticky, has marinara sauce stuck in places no food should ever be and has a mild headache. More precisely, he’s not naked on a bed with Steve like he’s supposed to be.

Said boyfriend is talking to clean-up agents and he frowns.

“Come on Tony, don’t be so down. How many people can say they got to fight a giant lasagne?”

He normally loves Peter; the kid has a lot of potential. “Kid, there’s a good reason that no one can say that. Ugh, do you think they need us for anything else?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we can head out as soon as Cap’s done.”

“Great! That’s what I like to hear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to collect my boyfriend of exactly six months today, go back to Stark Towers, have a long shower to remove any trace of this mayhem and engage in wonderful sex.”

“Um. That’s kind of… You’re like my parents!”

Tony pats his head condescendingly, he’s a good kid. Steve seems to sense him watching and he turns around and beams at him. He blames what happens next on that, because who wouldn’t be distracted by Captain America smiling at them.

Taking a step towards his boyfriend, he steps into a small pool of olive oil, skids and collapses in an undignified heap on the ground.

“If you don’t put me down…” he doesn’t finish that sentence because he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He doesn’t have a lot to threaten Steve with because Steve knows him so well. He instead settles on whacking Steve’s shoulder but that’s as effective as a hitting a tree trunk with a feather. An on-site doctor had taken a look at Tony’s ankle for him and had pronounced a broken ankle. Ever since then, Steve had refused to put him down. Instead, he’d carried the man around, bridal style, even once his armour was removed and takes him to their room.

Tony ignores the small voice in his head that reminds him how nice it is to be looked after.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, Steve gently unlaces the shoe on his good foot and pulls it off, and slowly tugs of his sock.

“I’m fine Steve,” Tony says exasperatedly, “Nothing that won’t heal, especially with Extremis. I’ve dealt with worse.”

And maybe he shouldn’t have said that because Steve’s turned The Eyes on him and that’s really not fair.

Resolutely, he removes Tony’s outer shirt and then unbuckles his belt.

“Babe, while I love the general direction this seems to be heading in, don’t you think you should be getting naked too? I’m feeling a little disadvantaged here.”

For all his efforts, he gets an unamused stare, “Tony we’re not having sex. I’m giving you a bath.”

Which is, well. Unexpected would be putting it lightly.

Tugging off his jeans, Steve presses a kiss to his knee and stands up, lifting Tony once again. When they’re in the bathroom, he places him down carefully on the stool they have in the corner and checks the water in the bathtub. Once he’s sure that everything’s perfect, he turns around to Tony who’s gaping at him.

“Steve, there are actual bubbles. And, is that a bath bomb? And rose petals?”

“Well,” and now Steve just looks sheepish and mildly guilty and Tony wants to slap himself, “It’s our anniversary and I thought it would be, well kind of romantic. Maybe it’s a bit too cheesy…”

“You mean you planned this whole thing?”

“Not the Invading food, I didn’t expect that.”

“I’m pretty sure no one expected that.”

He takes a breath, “This is possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” And then Steve’s got that ridiculous flush that starts from the tips of ears and spreads down his neck, and that dopey grin and that silly ‘Aw shucks’ look on his face. And it’s ridiculously unfair because all Tony wants to do is kiss him but he’s stuck at the moment.

“Get over here you giant lug, and kiss me.”

Steve does, not without rolling his eyes, and it’s gentle and warm.

“So I suppose wild honeymoon sex is out?” Tony asks plaintively.

“Until your leg is fully healed yes. I don’t want to risk hurting you. But you heard the doctor, factoring in Extremis, you should be fine within the week.”

He throws an arm over his face dramatically and smiles when he hears Steve chuckle. A few minutes later, Steve lifts him and gently slides down his boxers, before helping him into the tub.

“Aren’t you at least going to join me?”

“I was planning on giving you a sponge bath.”

And Tony’s brain right about short-circuits at that because, “Oh my God. Steve, Steve can we make good on those naughty nurse fantasies?”

He gets a raised eyebrow.

Well it was worth a try.

“At least take your shirt off,” Tony says, “You’re going to get wet too.”

“I knew it,” Steve says good-naturedly, “You’re just after me for my looks.”

“Oh dear, you’ve caught on. What ever shall I do?” he deadpans and Steve bursts into delighted laughter. He strips so that he’s just in a pair of boxers and grabs a wash cloth that’s hanging up, dipping it in the water to wet it before pouring liquid soap onto it.

He begins working out the tension in Tony’s shoulders, the combination of the warmth from his large hands and the circular motions of the towel doing wonders for his stress. The heady combination of the scented bath mix and the heat in the bathroom makes Tony drift off a bit, a pleasurable haze taking over his mind.

The wash cloth sweeps over his chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples, once, twice…

“You don’t play fair,” he mutters.

“You’re the one that wanted sex,” and he can hear the smugness in Steve’s voice. As he pinches one of the nubs, Tony’s mouth falls open in a pleasured sigh.

Down the wash cloth goes, gently skimming over the junction between his legs before continuing to his thighs, and then his calves. He whines, his hands thrashing in the water as he tries to grab onto Steve, but Steve quietly soothes him. “Be patient,” he says softly.

Walking around to the other end of the tub, he lifts Tony’s uninjured foot into his lap and proceeds to give him a massage. When Tony’s gone as relaxed as the spaghetti he was fighting earlier today, Steve works his way upward, edging closer and closer.

When he finally wraps the cloth around his erection, Tony lets out a groan as Steve brings him off in strong, brisk motions.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Steve says in his ear, “Just let go.”

And he does, sobbing his release as Steve strokes him through the aftershocks. When he’s done, Steve cleans him again, before helping him out of the tub and drying him with a towel. He slips a pair of boxers on and helps him get a fluffy bathrobe on as well before helping him to bed, where he lies boneless and sated. Watching Steve change into dry clothes, he mumbles, “What about you?”

Flushing, Steve replies, “I, uh, let’s just say you make me very happy.”

Tony doesn’t tease him about it, he understands.

Later that night, when’s he pressed against Steve, painkillers making him drowsy and Steve’s hand drawing circles onto his lower back, he doesn’t pretend not to snuffle into his side when Steve’s hand dips lower.

Steve will pinch his side without any real force, a reminder that he’s meant to be resting. He’ll promise Tony another bubble bath if he’s good.

And really, as long as Steve’s there, Tony doesn’t have a lot to complain about.

 


End file.
